The Life of a Gymnast

My name is Mia Tailor. I’m a 13 year old level 8 gymnast. Dark brown hair, blue eyes, 5’2”; average.
Other than the fact that I'm training at one of the top gyms in the country.
I am in 8th grade, but I only go to school for half a day. My schedule is a bit crazy. From 6-8 am, I train at Delaria's Elite Gymnastics Academy, which I will refer to as DEGA’s from now on.  My head coach is Mike Delaria, who’s one of the best coaches in the country. 
At 5:45 AM, I push open the doors to DEGA’s.  My coaches greet me as I walk in.
"Good morning, Mia" said my beam coach, Georgina.  Her brown hair is pulled into a short pony tail, and her green eyes look exhausted.  She’s sipping a Starbucks coffee, probably an espresso.
Behind me, the door opens again and the morning breeze hits the back of my legs.  Two girls walk in; Emma and Sam.  Georgina greets them as well, the same tired drawl evident in her voice. 

At the back of the gym is our team room.  The door is painted a brilliant gold with “DEGA AERIALS” painted in black lettering across the front.  I push open the door to see 3 more girls, all waiting for our morning practice. 

I twist the lock on my locker: 32-05-14, and it pops open.  

My locker is a mess.  There’s a shitload of leotards threatening to make a break for it and everything is covered with chalk from my grips.  I pull out a water bottle and try not to think about how old it is when I take a sip, and shove some clothes aside to make room for my gym bag.  At 6 AM practice starts, and we head to school at 8.  Two hours to do strength and some basics, which is my least favorite part of the day.

I change into a green leo and pull my hair into a bun to keep it out of my face.  The other girls get ready for morning training as well, and we meet our Georgina on the floor to begin morning warmups.